


When the Cat's Away...

by vesaldi



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, F/F, Patch 3.5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:20:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesaldi/pseuds/vesaldi
Summary: When the cat's away, the mice will play. Moenbryda finds herself surprisingly not alone in the Rising Stones after most of the Scions have left on some mission or another.
Relationships: Lyse Hext/Moenbryda Wilfsunnwyn
Kudos: 10





	When the Cat's Away...

The Rising Stones was unusually quiet for the middle of the day. Nearly all of the Scions had left for missions or errands or even simply to smell the relatively fresh air of Revenant’s Toll. Though her outgoing demeanor might suggest otherwise, Moenbryda enjoyed the respite from her friends. It had been a long journey to reach Mor Dhona and she was glad for the peace that silence could bring.

Moenbryda jumped in her chair at the sound of a loud crash deep within the Scions’ headquarters, nearly dropping the battered tome she had been attempting to read. _Pretending to read_ , she thought to herself with a wry smile. Dry tomes had always been more Urianger’s purview than hers, after all.

“I only know one Scion would could produce such a racket unaided,” she mused to herself as she stood from the chair, setting the book down and glancing toward the source of the noise.

The familiar sounds of exertion echoed through the hallways of the Rising Stones as Moenbryda continued to investigate the source of the not so unwelcomed disruption. As she quietly stepped through the archway into a nearby storage room, her suspicions were confirmed.

Beads of sweat glistened visibly on the Scion’s skin in the low light of the room as Yda lifted a crate nearly as large as she was. Moenbryda felt her lips turn up into a smile as she silently watched her friend move crate after crate. It was hard to tell if there was any purpose to the action or if the younger woman was simply working off excess energy – the distinction hardly mattered to Moenbryda either way.

“Ever one for practical exercise,” she finally commented with a grin, laughing lightly as Yda dropped the crate with a loud crash.

“Moen!” Yda all but shrieked, snapping straight up to face the Sharlayan. “H-how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to be treated to quite the show,” Moenbryda returned, the grin still plastered across her face as she moved closer. She was sure the Scion was blushing, although it was hard to tell while she was wearing the mask. “You can take that off, you know.”

Yda chuckled nervously, shoving the dropped crate out of the way with her foot. “It’s become sort of a, uh, tradition around here,” she explained. “To keep it on, that is.”

Moenbryda rolled her eyes, now all but an arm’s length away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Lyse.”

The comment, as she knew it would, spurred a reaction from the other woman. What Moenbryda did not anticipate, however, was being nearly tackled as Lyse tried to clamp a hand over her mouth to silence her. “Calm down!” Moenbryda demanded, doing her best to fend off the sudden assault.

“You can’t tell anyone!” Lyse whisper-shouted. She yelped as Moenbryda slapped her hand away. “Ow, what was that for?”

“For attacking me, or for thinking you could fool me,” she replied, hands on her hips. “You can choose which.”

“But, I–”

“No buts,” Moenbryda interrupted. She paused for a moment, her features softening before the grin returned. “Well…”

_Now_ Lyse was blushing for sure.

“Really, Lyse, I’m not sure why you thought that old mask would fool me,” Moenbryda continued, her brow furrowing into a more serious expression than she usually sported. “It begs the question, of course – _why_ pretend to be your sister?”

Lyse seemed to shrink down two sizes. “Well…” she began, trailing off as she awkwardly rubbed the back of her neck.

“I _know_ why, my dear,” Moenbryda told her, trying and failing to give her a stern look. What was the point of scolding her now? “Did you not think the rest of us might wish to mourn her as well?”

“Bold of you to assume _I_ mourned her.” Lyse’s shoulders slumped, and with a defeated sigh she reached up and tugged off Yda’s mask. An impossible amount of golden hair tumbled down over her shoulders as she tightly gripped the mask at her side. She was doing her best to avoid eye contact until the gentle touch of Moenbryda’s fingertips lifted up her chin.

It would have been easy to lose herself in those big blue eyes, but it would hardly have been the time. Instead, an impish grin sprang to her face. “I have just the remedy for this conundrum.”

Lyse blinked twice. “Wha…?”

“Where is the best spot to relax in this place?” Moenbryda asked, the grin still spread across her features.

“Well, there’s a reason I’m in _here_ ,” Lyse replied. “Although… no, we couldn’t.”

“We absolutely _could_ ,” Moenbryda assured her, taking her by the wrist and tugging her back toward the main chamber. “Where are we going?”

“I was going to ask _you_ that,” Lyse returned, grunting as she nearly tripped over her own feet.

“I know where F’lhaminn keeps her good liquor,” Moenbryda explained, “but _you_ have to tell me where we’re drinking it.”

“That sounds like a _terrible_ idea.” Lyse might have called it an objection, but the laugh that followed betrayed her. “Min has the most comfortable plush couches in the Solar, but I usually try not to bother her.”

“Well, she’s not here, is she?” Moenbryda winked as she ducked behind the bar, rummaging around for a few moments before popping back up with a pair of bottles. “What say we ask forgiveness later rather than asking permission now?”

“Oh, you are _definitely_ the one who’s going to take the fall for this,” Lyse assured her, grabbing one of the bottles and heading for the Solar.

_That’s my girl_ , Moenbryda mused to herself with a wide grin as she trailed behind the Scion.

Before she knew it, the two were tangled together on one of Minfilia’s couches and had drained almost an entire bottle.

“I missed this,” Lyse mumbled, leaning against Moenbryda as she attempted to siphon out the last few drops of liquor, much to the other woman’s obvious delight.

“Which _this_ did you miss, exactly?” the Sharlayan asked like the absolute imp she was.

“So many thises,” Lyse laughed. “You, _me_ , drinking myself stupid…”

“I have to confess that I am quite fond of all of those things myself,” Moenbryda told her with a light laugh. She ran her fingers through Lyse’s hair with one hand, reaching for the second bottle with the other. Her smile faded as she realized it was just out of reach. “Bloody bollocks…”

“Problem?” Lyse asked, looking up at her with a lopsided grin.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” Moenbryda explained, finally shifting slightly to wrap her fingers around the neck of the bottle.

“Victory!” Lyse exclaimed with a grin. “Lhaminn’s gonna kill us, isn’t she?”

“Just you,” Moenbryda returned with a smirk. “I’m a guest. It wouldn’t be appropriate to scold _me_.”

“Wha–!!”

Moenbryda just laughed.

“Give me that!” Lyse demanded, all but snatching the bottle from her hands.

“Slow with that one,” Moenbryda suggested as the Scion began to guzzle the contents.

“You’re not the boss of me,” Lyse retorted with a forced glare before taking another drink.

Moenbryda sighed. “Give it back, you lush,” she demanded, wresting the bottle away and taking a drink herself as Lyse whined beside her.

“I’m not a lush,” Lyse pouted, letting her head dip and fall into Moenbryda’s lap.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s alright,” Moenbryda comforted her between sips. “No one’s here to judge you but me.”

“I don’t want _you_ to judge me!”

Moenbryda shook her head with a smile. “Dear, I didn’t judge you for pretending to be your sister. Why would I judge you for this?”

There was a longer moment of silence than Moenbryda expected before Lyse spoke. “I miss her, Moen.”

“I know, love.” She took another swig from the bottle. “Losing someone is never easy.”

Lyse sighed. “I’ve spent so long pretending to be her that I think… I think I’m starting to forget who _I_ am.”

Moenbryda couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m not entirely sure you remember who _she_ was, based on your performance.”

Thankfully the comment prompted a laugh from the younger woman rather than a frown. “Acting was never my strong suit. You know that.”

Moenbryda laughed again. “Well then I think the only thing to do now is to tell some Yda stories.”

“Gods, all of them are so unflattering,” Lyse laughed, stretching her legs out over the edge of the sofa. “I’ve got about a thousand stories of her kicking my arse in sparring matches.”

“It’s no wonder you’re so adept now,” Moenbryda mused with a smile, “with a such a _diligent_ teacher as Yda.”

“There was that one time she absolutely _destroyed_ some arsehole in the Quicksand,” Lyse returned, a smile appearing on her face as she looked up toward the ceiling. “Momodi, bless her heart, was so grateful she gave her a permanent discount.”

“And I’m sure you’ve not taken advantage of _that_ at all.”

“Course I have,” Lyse laughed. “ _She’s_ fooled by my bad acting, at least.”

“Everyone but me is, I’m sure,” Moenbryda lied. No one bought it – that much had been clear since the moment she arrived in Mor Dhona. But everyone loved the girl and they had all pretended not to know.

Moenbryda continued to stroke Lyse’s hair. The pain in her eyes had been obvious the moment they had been reunited. She had considered saying nothing – letting the deception continue. But she knew that a moment of truth might be just what Lyse needed to keep pushing forward. And no one else had to know.

“She kicked my arse once too, you know.”

Lyse’s eyes lit up. “What?”

“Oh, did I not tell you about that?” Moenbryda replied with a smirk. “We sparred once or twice. I certainly didn’t win.”

A grin spread across the Scion’s face. “You _didn’t_ tell me that.”

“You and I should spar some time,” Moenbryda suggested. “When we’re sober, of course.”

“Think you can beat me?” Lyse asked with a smirk.

Moenbryda considered the question for a moment. “Probably not,” she finally answered, a warm smile appearing. “But I would love the opportunity to be bested by someone as beautiful as you.”

Now maskless, Lyse’s blush was much more apparent. “You flatter me.”

“That was the idea,” Moenbryda confirmed with a laugh. “I intend to continue.”

The blush deepened as Lyse pushed herself back into a sitting position, grabbing the bottle back and taking a drink.

“Just how long will everyone be gone?” Moenbryda asked after a moment, looking toward the door.

“A while,” Lyse assured her, taking another sip. “Papalymo, in particular, is probably glad to be rid of me for a spell.”

“His loss,” the Sharlayan shrugged, taking the bottle back. “I don’t suppose Minfilia will appreciate finding us passed out here when she returns?”

“Probably not,” Lyse shrugged. “But Min’s not one to hold grudges.”

Moenbryda raised an eyebrow. “Bold of you, Lyse Hext.”

“Oh, you haven’t seen bold yet,” the Scion returned with a grin, grabbing the bottle and leaning in toward the other woman. “I’ll show you bold.”


End file.
